


you don't have to say you're mine (the world already knows).

by iammadeofmemories



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF, Harry Styles (Musician), Real Person Fiction
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dorks in Love, Fluff, M/M, Movie Premiere, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:35:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24870898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iammadeofmemories/pseuds/iammadeofmemories
Summary: a short story of one Mr. Styles and one Mr. Chalamet arriving at a movie premiere together.
Relationships: Timothée Chalamet/Harry Styles
Kudos: 35





	you don't have to say you're mine (the world already knows).

**Author's Note:**

> So, I reread the id magazine interview, I saw an edit on twitter, I talked with my best friend and thus this was born. I did it mainly for fun, it's in no way meant to be taken seriously and, let's face it, in an alternate universe they are _the_ power couple. 
> 
> The usual notes: English is not my first language, any mistakes are mine and this is absolutely imaginary. Fiction, my loves, please enjoy it as such. 
> 
> Title somewhat based on 'Adore You', by Harry. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Nobody is expecting it when it actually happens. 

There’s been hints, of course, the phone interview started it all, but the whole thing has been building up for over a year: a couple of interactions in Twitter, a public outing with some ‘mutual friends’ that made the front pages of entertainment news for over a week and a suspiciously leaked Instagram story, with the two of them way more cozied up than you’d expect two very close friends to be. 

Even with all of that, seeing them arrive together still knocks the breath out of people chests and makes all the cameras’ flashes go wild. 

Timothée exits the car first; it's his movie premiere after all. He's wrapped in a black suit that hugs him in all the right places, a delicately embroidered floral pattern making pop what otherwise would be a pretty boring ensemble. The fashion magazines the next day would say he looked positively _dashing_ , the young actor joyfully playing with that ambiguous line between the feminine and the masculine that seems to be the trademark in this new generation of stars. 

The other’s appearance is what makes everyone stop right on their tracks: there's no acting gig, no special contribution to the soundtrack, no role of producer. No, it's very clear why this man is here and, if anyone had lingering doubts, they all go flying out of the window the moment they hold hands. 

Harry Styles is wearing one of his usual Gucci designs, but it’s quite obvious their stylists played well their cards: their outfits match almost as perfectly as their twin smiles and lovesick eyes. They are being presented as a unit, a team. A couple. 

(“We could do this differently, you know?” Tim had said, just the night before. “More quietly, perhaps?” 

“And where would the fun be in that?” Harry countered, an arched eyebrow and a satisfied smirk remarking the statement. Tim had thrown a cushion at him.

“You are a menace. And I hope you know that.” Harry only laughed in response. He would probably have taken his boyfriend’s words more seriously if he couldn't see Tim’s very own concealed smile. “There will be questions.” 

“We simply won't answer them.”

“We are going to give everyone a heart attack.”

Harry’s smile only grew. 

“I'm counting on that.”) 

The reporters waste no time in firing questions at them: 

_Timothée! Timothée! Why is Harry here?_

_Harry! What is your relationship with Timothée?_

_How did you guys meet? How long have you been together? Is this the official coming out Mr. Styles?_

Harry limits himself to flash a blinding smile at them and to pose for the cameras, avoiding questions with the elegance and subtlety of someone who has been doing the same thing the past ten years of their life. Timothée, on the other hand, is still somewhat restless with all this undivided attention, so Harry changes their positions slightly: he wraps his arm around his boyfriend’s waist, pulling him closer to whisper in his ear, “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” He only retreats when Timothée’s breath comes to him a little easier. 

(The reaction _that_ gesture gets, well, is inconsequential to both them and to this story.) 

They pose, they smile, they exchange private jokes way too far away from the mics for them to pick their words up. Timothée refuses to answer any questions that diverge from the movie itself, and Harry doesn't speak at all, doesn’t do much besides staring at Tim with hearts in his eyes. 

It’s only when they are about to enter the theater, not longer joined by the hip but still with interlaced hands, that one daring reporter throws the same question that has been floating in the air all evening: 

“Are you together?”

Harry stops. Timothée just _knows_ what he’s going to do next and yet, he lets the events unfold. 

“I don’t know, are we?” he shoots back, and kisses Timothée straight on the mouth. 

It’s short, it’s sweet, it’s a thousand more things, but innocent is not one of them. 

(“A menace, I tell you!” Tim says once they are inside. He tries to sound serious, he really does, but Harry is laughing and he is trying not to and the adrenaline high of what they just did hasn’t worn off yet. “An absolute menace!”

“And still you love me.” Harry winks at him, still laughing, and God help him, but Timothée does. He really, really does. And there’s no words to properly explain it, so he ends up kissing him again. 

It’s Harry who finally separates them. “Let’s go Mr. Chalamet, there are rumours that you have shirtless scenes in this movie and I’ve been _dying_ to see them.”)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
